


underneath purple skies

by BerryliciousCheerio



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, im sad!, nerd!jemma, pining!skye, the hsau that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerryliciousCheerio/pseuds/BerryliciousCheerio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like—making out in the library? Honestly. Just fuck it all.</p><p>or: the hsau you never knew you wanted</p>
            </blockquote>





	underneath purple skies

**Author's Note:**

> timeline??? what's a timeline????  
> anyway, if you look closely enough, you can see the moment when i stopped giving a fuck and just focused on finishing
> 
> disclaimed

 

 

 

"It's this or expulsion, Mr. Coulson."

Skye's dad sighs and gives her  _major_ side eye when she groans. "Skye will love to work in the library."

Lies. Utter lies.

Skye will not love to work in the library, especially since the library is absolutely haunted.

"Won't you, Skye?"

She glances at her dad, at the principal. "Uh—yeah," she mumbles, twisting the end of her ponytail. "It'll really help me learn my lesson." Is that laying it on too thick? Her dad gives her a look, but Principal Hansen eats it up, grinning condescendingly and straightening up the papers from Skye's  _immense_  file. She's kind of proud of it, to be honest.

"Great," Hansen says, clasping her hands in front of her. "You'll report to the library during lunch and after school, for the remainder of the year—."

"The year?!" Skye shrieks, because, haha, no, she only hacked the grade database a little and she's not about to give up a year's worth of lunches.

"We'll rearrange your schedule so you have your study hall after lunch, so you won't have to skip out on eating, of course." Her dad nods in approval, but Skye is literally so angry, because her schedule is the bomb, okay; she has a study hall first period three days out of the week, a free after lunch the other two—

"I didn't actually  _do_  anything to the grades," she argues, fidgeting in her seat. Her dad reaches for her arm, to pull her back, but this is a crime, an actual crime, and can't she sue the school for discrimination? Like, there's no actual evidence that she's the one that hacked the database, and they're probably just accusing her because she's Asian and the only other tech geek at the school is a chubby white guy with half a neckbeard. This is a hate crime.

She starts to say as much, but then her dad is tugging her out of her chair and making nice with Hansen, pulling her out into the hallway.

When the door closes behind him, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Maybe, the next time you hack into  _confidential academic information_ , don't be so arrogant about it?"

"First of all, I resent the implication that I hacked anything—innocent until proven guilty—."

"Sweetheart," he sighs. "You rewrote your teacher comments to say  _lol skye is awesome and super smart suck it_."

Haha. Yeah. Uh—

"Okay, so, uh—how mad are you?"

"Less than your mom will be."

Haha.

Ha.

Right.

 

 

**...**

 

 

 

Day one of hell.

Skye reports to the library at 12:37, a whole two minutes after class gets out, and the librarian peers out from behind the desk and snaps, "You're late."

"Hi Mrs. Danes." She drops her bag on one of the study carrels nearest to the desk, jumping when the woman, who can't be more than five feet tall, appears by her elbow, looking at her sourly.

"I'll be taking my lunch hour now that you've  _finally_ arrived. Sort those," she points to the carts of books to the left of the desk.

Shit—like, that'll take forever. Skye's not super pumped about having to traipse up and down the definitely ghost-inhabited aisles, because, like, this is definitely straight out of Ghostbusters and she has no intention of becoming a wanton vessel of Zuul. Like, fuck that, she is not Sigourney Weaver.

Skye snaps her gum, bored as Mrs. Danes gives her a list of instructions about how to use the library's interface, which is kind of dumb because, like, the whole reason she's here is because she's freaky good with computers, but  _whatever_.

Her attention comes back around just as Mrs. Danes tells her, "We don't usually have anyone in here at lunch, so you shouldn't be able to mess up that badly." With that, the woman brushes past her, retrieving her purse from under the help desk and disappears out the door, out to freedom.

Skye raises her middle fingers in the direction she went—but only after she's sure that there aren't any cameras trained on her, because, like, she's not a complete idiot.

Then, with only the weird Muzak coming over the speakers to keep her sane-ish, Skye sets to work.

 

**...**

 

It's only thirty minutes later when someone walks in.

Skye's in the back of the library, putting away some books on  _farming_ , of all things, and a book cart rattles at the front of the building, and this is definitely how she dies. She's accepted it. She's at peace. Tell her parents that she loves them, because Skye is about to get ghost murdered.

And then a very British, very young, very cute voice drifts back. "Um—hello? Is anyone here?"

Hah.

 _Not falling for your ghosty-ass trap, you ghost._ Skye is smarter than the average ghoul, like, fuck this shit.

"Hello?"

Skye crosses herself (just in case) and steps into the main aisle. "Uh—yeah. Hi." And—

wow. Okay.

Even if she's about to die by ghost, this ghost is very pretty. Like, really fucking pretty. If Skye wasn't sure of herself already, well—just—

ugh.

But the ghost/not ghost looks kind of like the type of girl that usually calls Skye a charity case, but she's also smiling so brightly that she kind of looks like the sun and Skye wants to look away and also never, ever do that. Oh god.

 _Oh god_.

She wonders if it would be appropriate to start singing Hozier.

"Oh! Hello!" the ghost/girl greets, smile widening. "You don't happen to be the librarian, do you?"

"Uh, no." Skye tries to not be offended. She doesn't look like the librarian, right? "I'm here working off my debt to society."

Ghost/Angel's smile falters for a second.

"Oh, shit, no, I don't mean—it's just a thing. With school. I'm not—I haven't killed anyone or anything." She's making this worse. This is so bad. She's just met her future wife and she's rambling about killing someone. Oh god. Deep breaths. "Mrs. Danes is the normal librarian, but, uh—she's kind of a harpy. Um—can I help you?"

Ghost/Angel relaxes a little—Skye realizes now that maybe saying the words  _killed anyone_  in an opening line wasn't the greatest idea. "Not really, honestly," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. Skye tries not to stare. "I just moved here and today is my first day, and I just wanted to get an idea of the campus. Learn the land and all." She chuckles a little, and Skye can't help but join.

"Uh, yeah, then." Skye gestures around her. "Welcome to the library. We have books and shit." That sounded casual and irreverent, right? Skye prides herself on being casual and irreverent. She's also currently constructing a thirteen point plan to seduce Ghost/Not Ghost. But that's—ahem. It's not important right now.

She should introduce herself, right? Offering the world's most awkward wave, she says, "I'm Skye, by the way. Resident library goblin." Jesus christ. What the fuck just came out of her mouth?

"You look quite good for a goblin," the girl deadpans before breaking out into a grin again. "I'm Jemma. You're honestly the nicest person I've met all day."

"Then I am so sorry."

Jemma—god, even her  _name_  is pretty—giggles, which Skye's pretty sure is the noise silver bells make when angel's get their wings or something, you know? God help her. Okay.

"Have you—uh," Skye starts before clearing her throat. "Have you found all your classes alright? The campus is a little ridiculous."

"Oh, ah, actually—." Jemma digs into the bag slung over her shoulder, looking every bit the prep that Skye assumed she was when she walked in. She grins and comes up with a neatly folded piece of paper, looking a little worn, like someone had worried the edges between nervous fingers. Jemma unfolds it quickly, cheeks pink and nearing what Skye would dare to call blushing, and asks, "You wouldn't happen to know where chemistry labs are? People keep telling me that they're in the science wing, but the science wing is very large on this map?"

Skye tentatively walks closer to look at the paper that Jemma's currently scrutinizing, and oh, yeah, Carter High's maps are notoriously shitty. On her first day, Skye'd taken one look at the scrap of paper in her hands and thrown it away, because, like, fuck that, she could figure it out on her own. Granted—she, uh. She'd been late to, like, all of her classes. So, uh—yeah.

"Do you mind if I write on it?" Skye asks, going to dig through her bag for a pen that she definitely has, because she has her life together,  _okay_.

"Oh! No, of course not!" Jemma hands the map over when Skye turns back, pen in hand.

"Okay," Skye walks over to the edge of the information desk, flattening the map on it and waving Jemma over. "This," she points to the science wing, a dark, impenetrable mass on the map, "is kind of a mess. There's four stories, but, like, not a lot of signs?" She marks out a square in the top left corner of the science wing. "This area is where all the chem labs are, but they're organized by level. So all the basic labs are on the first floor, average on the second, and advanced on the third."

"What's on the fourth?"

"That's the genius level. Kind of terrifying, honestly. We usually get evacuated because of what happens on that floor." Starting to trace out the quickest routes from all of the other buildings on the campus, Skye continues. "Supposedly you need an access key to even get  _on_ the floor, but the only person I know that has any classes there refuses to tell me anything, so it might just be all rumor, you know?"

Okay. Uh. She's stalled about as long as she can. She stars a couple of the best bathrooms, water fountains, and vending machines, and hands the map back over. Jemma's watching, expression wary for a split second before her smile is back, bright and happy and grateful, and Skye thinks that maybe she's just imagining things.

She's still—

there's like, a ten percent chance that Jemma's actually a ghost anyway, so. Yeah. But—she's totally not. Except that she might be. Jesus—

Jemma thanks her, grinning wide as she folds the map back up and slips it into what kind of looks like a leather bound planner, which,  _wow_. Skye never knew that office supplies were A Thing for her, but they are A Thing, apparently. Especially in Jemma Maybe Ghost's hands. Wow. Okay.

"Well, Skye—thank you very much," Jemma says. "I have a meeting with the counselor, so I've better be going. I hope to see you around?"

"Oh, yeah," Skye nods, leaning against the desk in what she hopes is a cool and collected way. "I'm generally, you know— _around_."

Oh god. Maybe she would rather be a vessel of Zuul. Jemma leaves with a smile and a wave—Skye panics a little. And if a few anatomy books find their way to the fiction section—

well, she's a little distracted, so, like,  _fight me, Mrs. Danes_.

 

**...**

 

"How was the library today?" Skye's dad asks, sipping his wine and looking like he's about to hear the results of her last math exam. Her mom looks up from her book and raises an eyebrow when she hesitates.

"Uh—," she stacks their dinner plates into the dishwasher. "It was—um. It was fine. Boring. I'm really learning my lesson." She sounds convincing right? Not giving away the religious experience that she had?

Her mom levels her with a look, which, yeah, she probably isn't being very convincing at all, but her dad seems to buy it, which is great. She hasn't had the whole coming out thing yet, and it's not that she doesn't think her parents will support her, it's just—she thinks it might be residual emotional baggage from the system? Like—her parents love her and she loves them, but she sometimes has these terrible attacks of paranoia where she thinks that they'll just send her back or something. But—uh, yeah.

Haha. Ha. She's fine, really, she's fine.

"Mrs. Danes had me shelving books," she elaborates, finally. "I was pretty sure I was going to die a la Ghostbusters."

"I told you we shouldn't have let her see that," her dad tells her mother, obviously thinking he's whispering.

"Phil," her mom sighs, relaxing. "She's sixteen."

Skye takes that as her opportunity to slip out of the room, heaving a sigh of relief when she's out of sight, because, like, her mom will be distracted for only so long and she hasn't yet managed to every lie successfully to her. One day, though. She has to be able to one day, right?

 

 

**...**

 

 

 

Day two of what is probably going to be the most excruciating year of Skye's young life. Trip has to decency to bring her lunch at the beginning of her shift, but even he's creeped out by the hallowed halls of the library.

"Try not to die," he calls over his shoulder jovially, practically skipping out. Of course he's happy. His life will be long and not spent in a library.

Goddammit Trip.

There aren't any books to reshelf this time, as Skye was a bit too thorough yesterday, so she passes her time by reading the first thing she sees, which is, sadly, some sort of knock off version of Twilight, but with, like, twenty percent less plot.

She's not hoping to see Jemma.

She's not.

However, when the doors to the building slide open, it would be a lie to say that Skye didn't drop the book and look up immediately.

 

**...**

 

(for the record, the janitor appreciated the interest)

 

 

**...**

 

 

 

It's, like, week  _something_  and Skye is maybe lying face down on the floor. The dirty, dirty carpeted floor of the library, covered in god knows what stains, but she's dead anyway, so who cares? There's no foreseeable future wherein she escapes this fucking library, so she may as well become one with it.

Literally no one comes in here—

least of all pretty girls with British accents.

At that thought, Skye groans into the carpet. She's actually not seen Jemma around since that first day, which sort of supports her working theory that this is a  _Ghost_  situation, and at some point she'll be making pottery and Jemma will appear behind her, which, like, she's not totally opposed to, but she also isn't interested in long term dating a ghost. Also she doesn't have Whoopi Goldberg to help them communicate. So—

yeah.

She's becoming one with the carpet.

The doors slide open with a  _whoosh_  and Skye doesn't open her eyes, just turns her head so that she's not talking to the floor and grumbles, "The light stopped flickering, Billy."

Someone who is very much not the janitor walks over and asks, "Are you—?"

 _Definitely_ not Billy.

Skye's eyes shoot open and Jemma is looking down at her in concern and mild disgust, but Skye's going to assume that the disgust is reserved for the carpeting and not for her.

"Oh my god."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she scrambles to her feet, swaying only a little. "I'm great. Hundred percent." Oh, jesus, she's halfway to shouting. "Uh," she starts, lowering her voice and pressing her palms to her thighs. "You're back."

Okay. That's wasn't—

it wasn't great. Jesus christ. "I just—." There may actually be no way to make this better. She should maybe return to the carpet. Skye blows out air through her nose, closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, Jemma looks hesitant, concerned, and Skye rushes to say, "It's just been one of those weeks, you know?"

This earns her a smile, which, wow, yeah, yep, good plan. "Same here," Jemma sighs, smile dimming as she drops into chair at one of the group tables.

Skye hesitates for a minute, because, like, is this an invitation? Does Jemma even like her in the slightest? She's hauled her bag up onto the table, but when she notices Skye still standing with what's sure to be the  _dumbest_ look on her face, Jemma asks, "Oh! Oh, is it alright if I eat in here?"

Skye literally doesn't know, but, uh, knowing Mrs. Danes, it probably is against the rules. All of the rules. But Mrs. Danes isn't here, and there's a cute girl that looks very nervous and a little sad, and Skye knows those feelings more than any other.

"Yeah," she says, dropping into the seat across from Jemma and pulling her own lunch out of her bag. "It's fine."

 

**...**

 

Somehow—and honestly, if Skye could maybe pinpoint how, she'd have a better handle on things,  _maybe_ —somehow they end up playing a really aggressive game of Life.

Sometime after lunch, Jemma'd started to wander around, exploring the library, so Skye did the same, and she found the ancient game box near the back of the library, where all the weird mythology books were kept. And—uh. That's sort of how they've ended up here, staring each other down over the board.

Jemma counts out her spaces, and Skye hisses out a curse as nicely as she can when she lands on the Sue for Damages spot. "That," Jemma grins, "will be a hundred thousand."

Skye looks at her dwindling cash pile and, yeah, it's probably a good thing that Jemma is so cute because if this were anyone else, Skye would have started cheating a long time ago. Her friends can attest to this, and she's really trying hard to avoid thinking of how much they'd mock her if they could see her now. Her habit of using less than legal means of winning is well known, and somewhat endearing, she'd like to think.

She hands over the money with minimal grumbling, mainly because Jemma's smiling and looking lighter than when she walked into the library earlier that day. So—that's a good thing, bruised ego aside.

It's her turn to spin next, and she spins a seven; Skye bounces her little car and person down the track, trying really hard not to actually yell when she lands on a Lose Next Turn spot. She's still trying to impress Jemma, yeah? Her ugly competitiveness would probably throw a wrench in that plan. To be really honest, the only thing that's keeping Skye sane is the shade of purple that Jemma became when she landed on every costly spot on the college track, while Skye skated right through cleanly. So there's always that.

Jemma's next spin lands her at marriage, and she throws Skye a look that Skye can't quite decipher before she reaches for a pink peg, rather than a blue one, settling it into the slot beside her own peg person. Oh.

 _Oh_.

Okay.

Jemma seems to deflate and Skye realizes that she's probably been staring, eyes wide. She's fucking this up so bad. So, so bad. She's not honestly sure how she can fix this? They're both silent—as if they've suddenly remembered that they're in a library, for the first time today, and as Jemma spins again, moves her car forward quickly, Skye scrambles for the right words to explain—but, like, there probably aren't any, since she's a colossal failure of a human being and she's probably made Jemma feel like shit, so—yeah. There's that.

Jemma avoids eye contact when it's Skye's turn to spin, fiddling with her phone nervously, her slim fingers shaking infinitesimally. Skye's spin takes her one space away from GET MARRIED, and, yeah, she's been trying to not cheat or anything, but this is—this is important right?

She nudges her car the extra space forward. Jemma makes a quiet noise of protest, reaching forward slightly before she draws back, obviously deciding not to care. Very carefully, Skye reaches over and grabs a pink peg as well, tapping it into her car gently, not looking up until she's set her game piece back on the board. Jemma offers her a tentative smile, careful, and Skye reciprocates, soft and slow and—the bell rings.

Of course it does.

Because her life doesn't suck enough as it is.

They've got about twelve minutes before Mrs. Danes comes storming back in, and Skye wants to maybe talk? When has she ever wanted to talk? Someone should maybe take her temperature.

But then Jemma is packing up her bag and Skye finds herself packing up the game board and trying not to stare, and they wave goodbye awkwardly. Jemma backs into a carrel of books, blushing as she straightens them and fumbling for the door.

"Oh god," Skye whispers, once the door's closed behind Jemma. "Oh my god."

 

 **.** **.** **.**

 

It's three twenty and Skye is literally bored out of her skull.

The last few weeks of her afternoon shift haven't been that bad—Grant and Trip sometimes will hang out for a bit, and Bobbi and Kara usually drop by to lovingly mock her before they leave for field hockey, and there's usually a kid in there, working and muttering at their homework, but today the library is empty and all Skye has to think about is Jemma's shy smile, the faint blush that had colored her cheeks as she had tripped out of the building.

This crush is going to be the death of her, Skye thinks.

The doors to the library slide open with a whoosh. Skye doesn't look up from her screen. "Study carrels at the back," she tells whoever it is. "Try not to break shit." The kid doesn't say anything—just walks up to the desk and leans against it.

"I didn't know you worked the afternoon shift?" Jemma asks, and Skye slams her laptop shut. Which probably made it look really suspicious, even when all she actually was doing was checking on her Neopets. Which, actually, is about the most embarrassing thing she could have been doing and so she doesn't regret anything at all, really.

"I think I was hoping that if I ignored it, it would go away," Skye smiles up at her. "I haven't seen you here after school before."

Jemma nods, plays with the strap of her bag. "I've been having to meet with all of my teachers to figure out what I need to get done by the end of the semester. This is my first afternoon I don't have the counselor breathing down my neck."

Skye makes a sympathetic noise that catches in her throat when Jemma runs a hand through her hair, shaking it out, eyes closed. Skye's eyes travel the column of her neck, the curve of the throat, up to her jaw before she realizes what she's doing and looks away, and yeah, this is bad, she has it so fucking  _bad_.

"How long are you here for?" Jemma asks, opening her eyes and leaning forward a bit more—far enough away that it wasn't anything more than friendly, but close enough that Skye could smell her perfume. She's literally a twelve year old boy. Jesus.

"Until five," Skye answers, drumming her fingers on the edge of the desk. "Working off my debt to society." Why does she keep joking about that? She needs to stop. She's a train wreck.

"Well," Jemma smiles, pushing herself up to rest on her palms, rather than her elbows. "I've got a bit of time to kill before my mum comes for me. Mind if I do some work here?"

Skye gestures at the tables in front of her. "Please, god, keep me company," she jokes, though she's not at all joking, really, her tone probably edging onto desperation. If Jemma notices, she hides it well, keeping her sunny grin in place as she sets up at the table closest to the help desk, facing Skye. "So what classes are you in?" Skye asks, looking back down as she reopens her computer. After a beat of silence, she adds on, "I just—I mean, I never see you around."

She pauses in typing in her password to glance up, to see Jemma staring down at her text book. "I—ah," Jemma stutters, worrying to edge of the page. She looks up, her face carefully blank, and Skye's a tiny bit worried. "I suppose our paths just haven't crossed."

Holy shit, this girl is the world's worst liar. Maybe the universe's. Skye counts three tells in the space of a minute, but you know what? She's not going to push it. Because Jemma is pretty and kind and  _here_ , not forcing Skye to be alone with her thoughts.

So instead she nods, turns back to her laptop and returns to haggling with the Neopet merchant. After a beat, after watching Jemma work on her reading assignment, Skye switches back to her English essay.

They work in a comfortable silence, just the tapping of Skye on her keyboard and the occasionally scratch of Jemma's pen in the margins of her text. Time ticks by. By the end of the afternoon, when Jemma's phone buzzes, breaking the silence and announcing that their time was coming to an end, Skye doesn't think she's ever been so content to have actually done homework.

When Jemma leaves, with a shy smile and a wave, Skye can't stop grinning.

 

**...**

 

"You certainly seem happy," her mom murmurs when Skye throws herself into the passenger seat, tossing her bag over her shoulder into the back. "I can't imagine it's the library that's reason for this."

Skye bites back another grin, having managed to wipe the first one off her face after a few good moments. "Uh—yeah," she mumbles, buckling herself in. "The library is actually really great."

Her mother eases to a stop at the light and shoots Skye a look. "There are some really nice people there," Skye adds shyly, picking at the edge of her thumb. Her mom hums, smiling slightly.

"Okay," she concedes, tapping her fingers on the wheel.

Okay.

 

 

**...**

 

 

 

"Alright," Bobbi grins, sliding into the seat beside Skye. "Who is it?"

Kara drops into the desk in front of her, smirking.

"I don't know what you're talking about." If she runs away from this conversation now, what are the chances of Bobbi's ridiculously long legs catching up to her before she makes it off campus?

"Awwww," Kara coos, looking at Bobbi with clasped hands. "Our little tiny gay, trying to pretend like she doesn't have a huge, glaring crush on someone."

Her friends are assholes, Skye thinks. She groans, throws her head into her hands and drops to the desk. "You guys are the worst," she mumbles, grimacing when Bobbi snorts.

"It's just because we love you," she promises, rubbing Skye's shoulder gently. "After your shift in the library, we're getting pizza and talking about girls, cool?"

Skye turns her head a little, facing towards Bobbi. "How do you know it's a girl?"

"Because Kara's dating Grant, Trip's basically your brother, and all the other boys at this school wear socks with sandals." There's literally no way to argue with that. "It's alright, lil gay," Bobbi murmurs, keeping her voice low as more students start to enter the room. "Statistically, you'll get over this."

The actual worst.

 

**...**

 

She's not on the floor, at least.

But Skye  _does_  have her head on the desk, laptop, for once, stowed. At least she's not groaning, right? She doesn't do emotion well.

When she hears the tell-tale  _whoosh_  of the doors sliding open, she doesn't look up immediately, trying really hard not to look as desperate as she feels.

Yesterday was weird and she kind of wants some sort of confirmation that she hasn't fucked this all up. Just because they both like girls—which, well, Skye is assuming, but why else would Jemma use a pink peg?—just because of that, they aren't necessarily destined to be together and Skye's pretty sure she's heard Bobbi rant about this very subject before, about maybe her mother assuming that anyone else that likes girls is obviously Bobbi's soulmate? Or maybe it was something dumb that Grant said?

Skye realizes that she should maybe pry her head off of the desk. Maybe make eye contact. Jemma's just reached the desk when Skye looks up, and she chirps out a greeting, smiling happily. Skye very carefully shoves all of her feelings into the bottomless pit that's opened up within her and smiles back.

"Hey stranger," she greets, instantly regretting her words because she literally just saw her yesterday. Literally. She's a hot mess. A massive, gross, hot mess, and maybe the earth should rip open and swallow her whole, yeah?

But Jemma's smile widens, and she sets her bag down on the table nearest the desk again. "D'ya fancy finishing the game?"

 

**...**

 

"That's cheating!" Jemma exclaims, pointing at Skye's marker on the game board. "You clearly spun a six."

"And I moved six spaces," Skye grins. "Honest."

"Somehow, I don't believe you," Jemma murmurs, smiling all the same. Sighing dramatically and feigning hurt, Skye moves her car back a spot. Jemma's smile widens, her eyes sparkling.

And when she aims that grin at Skye?

Hoo boy. She's a goner.

 

**...**

 

In the end, Jemma wins.

Probably because Skye, for maybe the first time in her life, felt an active urge to  _not cheat_. Her pride, a little wounded, probably hates this crush more than Skye herself does.

 

**...**

 

When the day ends, Skye's nearly vibrating. Honestly.

Like, she's pretty sure Jemma is the cutest person she's ever met? Maybe even on the earth?

Her friends hung out on campus until she was finished with her shift in the library, and when she walks out the back entrance, leading to the pick-up loop, she finds her crew sitting in the parking lot.

"Where's Lance?"

Based on Trip's frantic head shaking, she shouldn't be surprised when Bobbi snaps, "Dead to me."

"Should we bitch about boys instead?"

"No," Bobbi huffs. "One of us should be happy." Grant and Kara look up indignantly and Bobbi waves them off. "I know, I know, you guys are disgustingly happy. Calm down and get in the car."

It's probably a good thing, actually, that Bobbi and Lance are off again, because now Skye can actually have a seat, rather than having to sit on Kara's lap and hope that a cop doesn't notice. Which is probably a nice change, but honestly Skye's mind is elsewhere.

"Okay, heart eyes," Bobbi mutters as Skye drops into her seat. "Save some mooning for pizza."

 

**...**

 

"Anyway, she's just really pretty?" Skye sighs, biting off a piece of pizza viciously. "And it's really hard to think when she's around?"

"Aww, baby gay," Kara coos. "You've got it bad." Trip nods in agreement, grinning while Bobbi grumbles into her beer.

"She's just really cute," Skye whines. "Really cute." Grant grimaces, pops open a bottle and hands it to her.

"What's her name?" Bobbi asks, cocking her head.

"Jemma. God—," Skye groans, dropping her head into her hands. "Even her  _name_  is perfect."

"Jemma Simmons?" At Skye's responding blank look, Bobbi expands her line of questioning. "British? Kind of tiny?" Skye nods. "She's in my biochem class."

Her super genius biochem class.

Which maybe explains a lot. "Oh god," Skye groans, dropping her pizza into the box and falling back, landing on the ground with a thud. "I called the top floor kids freaky geniuses."

"You think I'm a freaky genius?" Bobbi raises an eyebrow, sipping her beer judgmentally.

"In the most loving way possible," Skye promises. "But I think I accidentally ruined my relationship before it started."

Kara pats her forehead, murmuring, "I'm sure she didn't take it like that?"

"She totally took it that way. Oh god."

Bobbi leans over her, eyebrows drawn together. "How long have you thought I was a freaky genius?"

Kara pulls her back, opening another beer and shoving it into Bobbi's hand. "Maybe not the time, Barbara? Our baby gay is a little sad."

Someone—Skye's not sure who, as she closed her eyes when Bobbi kept glaring at her, but she thinks it's Grant— _someone_  drops a slice of pizza onto her face, which she bats off quickly. "Chin up—," yeah, definitely Grant. "I called Kara a scary field hockey monster and she loves me."

"You called me a monster?"

Skye opens her eyes just in time to see Kara rounding on Grant, which, yeah, the sheepish look he's got on his dumb little face kind of makes Skye feel a lot better. And like—if Grant could get someone like Kara to date him—well, Skye's like twenty percent less dickish, yeah?

Grant and Kara start bickering affectionately, swapping insults in a way that makes Skye want to gag a little. When Skye glances over, Bobbi's frowning at her phone, thumbs flying across the screen, which means that they're all about two steps closer to the return of Lance and Bobbi, which is probably a bad idea, but Skye's literally sprawled out on the floor of her friend's pool house, moaning over a girl that she barely knows, so she can't exactly judge anyone.

She twists her head, looking towards the door. Trip's leaning against the wall, looking at their friends with affectionate disgust. When she catches his eye, he lifts her abandoned bottle and waves her over. Skye could theoretically stand and walk over, but tonight is a pathetic night, so she sort of scoots over, sliding easily over the hardwood.

"I'm not giving your beer back until you sit up," Trip warns, offering her a hand.

"Fine,  _Mom_."

"Say whatever you want," he tells her once she's sitting, beer in hand once again. "But I am the only one of this group with any part of my life together and I'm not about to let you choke on cheap ass beer."

Skye heaves a sigh, dropping her head onto his shoulder. "I know," she breathes.

There's more she could say. But right now, she's content to sit with her best friend and watch their friends be weird.

 

 

 **.** **.** **.**

 

 

It's fine. She's fine.

Skye's not at all nervous about seeing Jemma today, so there's really no reason for her to lie face down on the floor again.

Which is a lie. A very large one.

Because she's very nervous and she's definitely face down on the floor, admiring the work that maintenance did on the carpet over the weekend. "This is fine," Skye mumbles into the floor. "This is totally fine."

"Ah—Skye?"

Of course. Because her life has been too good.

Skye raises her eyes a little, catches sight of the pristine Toms she's come to know and love from. "I'm fine," she repeats. "I'm totally fine."

"Is—ah. Is this normal for you? The lying on the floor bit?"

"Sort of. It's becoming a thing."

"Would you prefer that I come back later?"

"No," she forces out, even though there is a very real part of her that wishes she'd answered in the affirmative. "No, I'm cool. I'm getting up."

Silence settles for a moment, save for the wheezing of the vents above them. And then—"You're still lying there."

"I know. It's just a thing that's happening."

Jemma's bag drops suddenly, and if Skye were able to feel anything but intense dread, she'd probably startle. Instead, she watches in numbed silence as Jemma carefully stretches out beside her. After a beat, she says, "I'm starting to see the appeal in this."

"Right?" Skye smiles, resting her head on her arms. "It's kind of relaxing."

Jemma nods, grinning. Skye's heart does weird somersaults. Jemma turns away after a moment, and Skye tries to pretend that she's not just staring at her like the biggest creep ever. Eventually, she works her courage up and murmurs, "I'm sorry I sort of called you a freaky genius." She can almost hear Kara yelling at her to shut her dumb, gay mouth. Can almost hear Grant laughing like an asshole.

Jemma stills, stops picking at her nails, her brows drawn together and face blank. "What do you mean?"

"I—uh—," Skye stammers, pushing herself into a seated position. Jemma mirrors her slowly, hands coming to rest in her lap, still and waiting. "Do you know Bobbi Morse?" When Jemma nods, Skye pushes herself to continue, even though she's about two words away from just puking? All over? "She—uh. I'm friends with her and she mentioned you—,"  _big_ lie, "and I sort of put it together." Skye runs a hand through her hair, laughs nervously. "Fun fact! I'm kind of a big douche that just sort of lives with my foot constantly in my mouth?"

Jemma's blank face breaks, a smile appearing briefly before her lips twist into a frown. "Don't say that!" she says, hand reaching for Skye's.

At the contact, they both freeze. Skye—because she's honestly about to throw up. Out of affection and nerves, though. Good things. Good vomit. Jemma probably because she's realizing that Skye actually is sort of an asshole and is probably calculating how to get out of this in some really sweet and polite way.

Skye looks up from their joined hands to see Jemma looking at her, eyes guarded. They stay like that for a moment—to Skye, it feels like an eternity, but then Jemma's talking again, her hand still carefully wrapped around Skye's.

"I suppose I was just—I was a little nervous, really. At my last school, I was known as the weird genius girl—which is—well, it's not the sole reason my family moved, but it probably did contribute quite a bit—." Oh god. She rambles when she's nervous. Skye didn't think she could fall any harder? But it's happening?

"No, honestly," she interjects. "I was really dumb to say that—like, it's a joke with my friends about Bobbi being the smartest of us and I just—I sometimes forget that not everyone has that context, you know?"

They might be a perfect match because Skye is definitely nervous and she literally can't seem to stop talking? They both begin sentences, stopping abruptly and Jemma breaks into laughter. Her laugh is infectious, bubbly and happy, and Skye finds herself laughing as well.

"We're quite the pair," Jemma sighs as her laughter dies out, and she smiles fondly at Skye.

"Yeah," Skye breathes, very aware of the fact that Jemma's still holding her hand. "We are."

 

**...**

 

"So are all of your classes super advanced? What's the top floor like? Bobbi keeps saying that it's a dungeon and I don't have anything to prove her wrong, which is kind of my dream in life—."

Jemma laughs, the sounds bringing a smile to Skye's face automatically. "Well—," she starts, smiling at Skye. "It's not quite a dungeon, but it is rather stark, I suppose. A lot of linoleum." There's a moment of hesitation; Skye watches as Jemma frowns for a moment, brow furrowing, before she says, "I could show you sometime? If you'd like?"

Is this a date? Is this an honest to god nerd date? Or maybe Jemma's just really polite and kind and understands that literally all Skye wants to do (aside from maybe kiss a certain freaky genius forever) is to be able to prove Barbara Morse wrong.

Yeah.

Probably the latter.

"That'd be awesome," Skye answers brightly, in what is hopefully a totally platonic manner. Jemma grins and Skye can't help but mirror her. She's sure that if anyone walked in right now, they'd look like idiots, but she can't bring herself to care much.

 

**...**

 

"She might have asked me out," Skye whispers fiercely, grabbing Bobbi by the wrist and dragging her into one of the stacks.

"What do you mean 'might have'?" Bobbi stares at Skye, eyebrows raised as she pulls her arm away and twists her hair up into a bun.

"She offered to show me the top floor."

"How did she say it?"

"Hesitantly."

Bobbi taps her forefinger to her chin. Skye's not sure if she's being mean or not, to be honest. She doesn't exactly care at this point. "There's, like, a ninety percent chance that she's totally asking you out," she says after a few moments.

Ninety percent is enough for Skye to start planning an outfit. Sure, it'd be great if Bobbi was ninety nine percent sure, but Skye will deal with what's she's given.

"She and I are lab partners right now," Bobbi adds. "I could ask her about you, if you want?"

"Yes!" Skye very nearly yelps, clapping her hands over her mouth an instant later. There's only two other kids in the library, but it's embarrassing all the same, due in part to the shit-eating grin on Bobbi's face. "Uh—yeah," she repeats quietly. "That'd be great. But be subtle. Not too subtle. But—."

"Skye," Bobbie says seriously, patting Skye's head. "This is adorable but if you tell me to be subtle again, I'm going to fight you."

Ducking away from her disgustingly tall friend, Skye takes a deep breath. "I know," she sighs on the exhale. "I'm just—I don't wanna fuck this up. I really like her, you know?"

"I know. It's really cute how much you like her."

Kara appears then, rounding the corner of the stack. "Barbara, we're going to be late," she hisses, hands on hips. When she sees what's probably a really terrified look on Skye's face, she immediately lightens up. "What're we talking about?" she grins, clapping her hands lightly. "Is it that Jemma girl? Did something happen?" Kara places her palms on Skye's cheeks. "Baby gay," she says seriously. "Did you kiss her?"

"Kar," Bobbi murmurs, placing a hand on her arm. "Skye might puke."

"I might puke," Skye parrots. She must look a little green, because Kara, who's easily the least squeamish of the group, drops her face and backs away quickly.

"Why are you maybe puking?"

"She might have asked me out."

"Might?" Kara asks, turning to Bobbi. " _Might_?"

"She was hesitant, apparently," Bobbi explains, crossing her arms.

"Well, what'd she ask?"

"If Skye wanted her to show her the top floor."

"Oh my  _god_."

"I  _know_."

Skye thinks that she might actually feel a little faint. Because if this is a date? If this an honest to god, legitimate date? That means she has to talk to her parents. "Uh—," Skye gulps, coming back to the conversation happening around her. The two other girls look at her, eyes wide. "You guys are going to be really late to practice. You should go."

"Are you sure?" Kara asks, concern obvious. "You kind of look a little pale."

"Probably because I'm stuck in here all day," Skye answers easily, gesturing around her. Neither of her friends look convinced, so she promises, "I'm fine! I'll text you when my shift is over." They mirror one another, arms crossed and brows drawn together as they stare at Skye, but it's Bobbi that breaks first, glancing at her watch and blanching.

She grabs Kara by the elbow, dragging her out of the stacks. "You'd better text!" Kara calls over her shoulder.

Some asshole from the other side of the library shushes them. Skye doesn't even have the energy to get angry.

 

**...**

 

Jemma comes by later, twenty minutes before Skye's shift is over. Her hair's mussed, pulled back into what was once probably a perfect ponytail, and there's some sort of blue slime on the edge of her shirt.

"You okay?" Skye calls when she looks up to see the other girl, standing in the middle of the library's open entrance.

"Yeah," Jemma waves her off. "I'm fine. A bit tired is all."

"Do you—uh," Skye starts, biting her lip. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jemma shakes her head, dropping her bag onto her normal table. "It's been an awful afternoon, actually," Jemma finally explains after several minutes of silence, only broken by Skye's occasional typing. "I miss my best friend."

Skye sighs sympathetically—it's not the same, she knows, but when she was little, she had to leave a lot of friends behind when she left the orphanage. It's awful, and she's sure it's a lot worse when you're not seven and only moving a few towns over.

"What're they like?" she asks kindly, closing her laptop.

Jemma looks up, eyes a little red, and offers her a watery smile. "He's my partner, you know?" she murmurs. "I'm used to working with him in labs, and he's trying to get a scholarship here, but his mum wouldn't be able to come with, so it's—it's just very hard, right now." She takes a deep breath, obviously trying to keep it together. "I was very excited about moving here," she adds. "My old school wasn't the best. But it's been a lot harder than I expected, I think."

Skye picks at the edge of her thumb absentmindedly. "I—uh. I know it's not exactly the same," she offers. "But when I first got adopted, the transition was really rough, even though I was super pumped. So, I—um. I kind of get it, if you ever want to talk about it?"

Ah, jesus. This is way too heavy for a Monday.

"And," Skye tacks on. "You're always welcome to drink shitty beer with me and my friends. Door's always open."

That effectively lightens the mood, and Jemma huffs out a laugh, wiping her cheeks to rid herself of nonexistent tear tracks. Even as the moment passes, Jemma's eyes stay on Skye. Feeling heat rush to her cheeks, Skye looks away, down at the desk, and pretends like she's actually doing something other than screaming inside.

"Would you—," Jemma starts, stopping abruptly. Skye looks up to see Jemma frowning slightly. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in cutting out early and going on a tour of the top floor, would you?"

"You don't seem like you'd be into these sort of bad girl shenanigans," Skye says, even as she stands, smiling.

"I suppose I'm feeling a little wild," Jemma grins.

 

**...**

 

"Oh my god," Skye breathes, stepping off the elevator. "This is an actual supervillain lair." Skye's not sure that this place is real, honestly, and she's really not sure she understands how actual classes work, because there are no classrooms within sight. The whole floor is just open, filled with lab tables and beakers and ridiculously intricate equipment that she feels like she's about to break by just looking at it too long.

"I guess it is a little villainy," Jemma laughs, flicking on lights. "Do you—?"

She breaks off, and Skye turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

"I—ah. Would you like to see what I'm working on?" She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, which Skye is quickly learning is a sign that she's nervous, so Skye nods enthusiastically, smiling wide and bright.

Jemma seems to relax, and walks over to one of the lab stations, bending to open a refrigerator stowed beneath the bench. Skye wanders over slowly, peering over Jemma's shoulder as she pulls out a tray of vials filled with a neon blue liquid. "It's a version of dendrotoxin—a class of neurotoxin. It causes temporary paralysis, but this is just my first trial."

"What's it for?" Skye asks, leaning on the lab bench beside Jemma, shoulders brushing.

"With the right dosage, it could be an effective replacement for pepper spray, really, giving the victim a chance to get away while their assailant is paralyzed for a short time," Jemma explains excitedly, eyes sparkling, and wow, yeah, Skye really needs to talk about science with her more, if it makes her this happy. "I just don't have a delivery method for it just yet, but Dr. Weaver thinks it could easily be my final project."

"That's really awesome," Skye murmurs, picking up a vial and holding it up to the light. "Is it bad that I have an urge to drink this?" Her dumbass comment must catch Jemma off guard, because she actually snorts, and it's  _adorable_.

"Oh, god," Jemma yelps, clapping her hands over her mouth. "That's so embarrassing."

Skye can't help herself. She's honestly a little too impulsive for her own good. "I think it's cute," she mumbles, carefully putting the vial back into its place, fingers brushing Jemma's for a moment.

When she looks up, Jemma's staring at her, lips parted slightly, and Skye might be imagining it, but she swears she sees Jemma's eyes dart down to her lips before she looks away. "Right, yes—enough science babble. Want to see the lecture hall?" Even if Skye imagined that moment before, she definitely hears Jemma's voice waver.

Nodding, Skye pushes off the counter, ignoring the weird things her heart and stomach are doing, and, after Jemma puts her dendrotoxin away, she follows her to the back of the room, where there's a simple black door.

The room is dark, and Skye slides along the wall until she's out of the way of the door, not trusting herself to walk anywhere without lights. She feels Jemma come up beside her, and then Jemma whispers, "I promise this will look a lot cooler in a moment."

Skye nods into the dark, folding her arms over her chest and leaning her head back against the wall. And then—Jemma finds the right switch, because suddenly there's an entire night sky, up on the ceiling.

"The Ancient History class is using this as a planetarium this semester," she explains. "I think they're learning about how the stars were used as navigation in the Pacific?"

When Skye's able to tear her eyes away from the ceiling, she glances over to see Jemma looking at her expectantly, nervously, twisting her hands. "This is—," she stutters. "This is so cool, Jemma."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She seems to relax, the tension going out of her shoulders, her back. "There's an audio track that goes with this," she gestures up, towards the constellations dotting the ceiling above them. "If you're interested."

 

**...**

 

" _The stars, one of the only constants in explorers' days, served multiple purposes,_ " the track starts over, the narrator's voice soothing and soft, washing over Skye as she looks up, tracing the constellations with a lazy hand. Jemma's arm is pressed against hers, her hand close enough to Skye's free one that their fingers are touching.

They've spent the last fifteen minutes talking over the tape, exchanging dumb stories from when they were kids and less dumb secrets. "I was adopted when I was seven," Skye tells her now, hand wavering in the air for a moment. "I lived in an orphanage until then."

Jemma takes the news quietly, nodding and hooking her pinky around Skye's. "I've spent most of my life afraid of what other people thought about me," she whispers then, and Skye can understand that, if nothing else. She hooks another finger around Jemma's. "I haven't felt like that in a bit, though," she adds.

Skye looks away from the stars above her to look at Jemma, smiling slightly. "How do you feel now?" she whispers back.

Jemma turns to face her, a smile ghosting across her lips. "I feel rather brave."

She leans in slowly, inching forward, and it suddenly occurs to Skye what's about to happen. But instead of nerves, all she feels is calm. Jemma's perfume is sweet, floral—Skye thinks she kind of just wants to be around her every day. When they're close enough that they're essentially sharing a breath, that Skye can tell you exactly how many freckles are scattered over Jemma's nose and cheeks, that she can count how many colors are in her eyes—

that's when the phone rings.

They both startle, jerking away from one another. Jemma bites her lip and murmurs ruefully, "That'll be my mum." She won't meet Skye's eyes, but that's probably better because Skye's about two seconds away from just screaming. Because this can't be real life, right? This isn't a thing that happens in reality?

"Yeah," Skye whispers hoarsely, taking as deep of breaths as she can manage. "My mom's probably here too."

They don't speak as they leave the science wing, Jemma closing down behind them. They don't speak when they get back to the library to collect their things, when Skye locks up the building. And they don't speak as they walk out to the school's pick up zone.

Jemma nods to her car and breaks the silence. "That's my mum. I'll—ah. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Skye nods—finds her throat suddenly dry when she tries to respond, so she leaves it at that. Jemma flashes her a quick smile before she walks away, marching over to her car and piling in without a glance back. Skye doesn't realize that she's just standing on the sidewalk, mooning, until her mother honks, pulled up right against the curb.

"Who was that?" she asks with a wry smile as Skye stumbles into the car.

"Uh—just a girl I know. Is—uh. Is Dad going to be home for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah. Why?" her mom asks, pulling out into traffic smoothly, glancing at Skye out of the corner of her eye.

"I have some stuff I want to talk to you guys about," Skye answers evenly—as evenly as she can manage. "College and grades and stuff."

It's not a lie. Not really. She does also kind of need to talk to them about college. But it's the  _and stuff_  that's most pressing.

"Okay," her mom hums. "We'll talk tonight. Is everything okay?"

"Huh?" Skye looks up to see her mother looking straight ahead, though her expression was one of concern.

"You seem worried about something," she murmurs. "I'm just checking in."

Which makes sense. But also completely throws Skye's plan off because her mom is really good at getting information from her and she's also already on edge and she just really wants to get this over with. It's not that she's worried about her parents' reaction. She thinks it's just some old hang ups she has?

"Uh—yeah," Skye answers finally, carefully. "Everything's fine."

 

**...**

 

Somehow—

everything is fine.

Her parents have a textbook perfect reaction, her dad bursting into tears and hugging her and telling her how happy he is that she knows that she can trust them and tell them anything. Her mom gives her a gentler hug after, while her dad is looking up when the next pride parade in their city is.

"Tell me if anyone gives you any trouble," she whispers fiercely, hugging Skye tighter.

Skye nods, crying again. Honestly—if she'd known she'd be this teary, she probably would have just written a letter or done something really ridiculous like bake a rainbow cake. Which, granted, had been her go to strategy until she found out how much work actually had to go into it.

When Skye pulls away, her mom keeps a hold on her shoulders and murmurs, "So, what's her name?"

"What?" Skye stammers. "I—I don't—."

"Oh, sweetheart," her mom smiles, brushing some hair out of her face. "I saw how you looked at her."

"I—yeah." Skye sighs, "Her name is Jemma. She just moved here."

"Is she why you're suddenly not complaining about the library?"

"Maybe."

Her mom gives her a knowing look and a smile, but she doesn't press the issue further. Which is probably a good thing. Because her dad would probably overhear and invite Jemma over for some awkward dinner or something.

"You have a crush?" her dad calls from the other room.

"You can't invite her over for dinner," her mom calls back, smirking at what Skye's sure is a look of panic on her face. She brings Skye in for another hug, whispering happily, "Yet."

 

**...**

 

 _from: Skye_  
to: squad  
8:09pm  
so guess whos out to their parents

 _from: Bobbi_  
to: squad  
8:09pm  
WHAT

 _from: Kara_  
_to: squad_  
_8:09pm_  
_OMG how'd it go bby_

 _from: Bobbi_  
_to: squad_  
_8:09pm_  
_WHAAATTTT_

 _from: Grant_  
_to: squad_  
_8:10pm_  
_OH MY GOD_

 _from: Trip_  
_to: Skye_  
_8:10pm_  
_u good?_

 _from: Kara_  
_to: squad_  
_8:10pm_  
_oh my god is it inappropriate if i send a rainbow emoji_

 _from: Skye_  
_to: squad_  
_8:11pm_  
_it was so good. so so good. they were really awesome about it all and my dad might have registered already for pflag? really good. im shaking a little but thats fine im fine its cool THEY WERE SOO GOOD ABOUT IT OH MY GOD_

 _from: Skye_  
_to: Trip_  
_8:11pm_  
_yeah_  
_im good_

 

 

 **.** **.** **.**

 

 

"Is the tie too much?"

Skye looks up from her cereal and very nearly chokes. Her dad's tie is literally rainbow tie dye. " _Phil_ ," her mom sputters, putting her coffee cup down. "Too much."

"No," Skye says quickly. "No, I like it."

Breaking into a grin, her dad adds, "I ordered a bumper sticker for my car, too."

" _Oh my god_."

"Too much?"

 

**...**

 

Her mom sends her texts throughout the day— _are you out to your friends? do you want to come out to the family? what do you want for dinner?_ —which Skye appreciates, both for the thoughtfulness, as well as the distraction they provided from Skye's increasing sense of dread. It's not that she's nervous about seeing Jemma. It's just that they almost kissed and now Skye's sort of made it so that if they were to kiss and continue kissing, it's not like they would have to hide from her parents? It feels like a big thing. It is a big thing, yeah?

Okay.

She might be a little nervous.

Skye's managed to have a pretty normal day, once she got past the part where her friends sort of tackled her in the quad before school started. Jemma was noticeably absent from the library at lunch, which Skye tries not to read too much into, but they almost kissed and now it seems like Jemma's avoiding her? Skye might be dying a little?

The library is empty this afternoon, which only adds to the overall anxiety that Skye feels; the only thing to break through the silence is her phone, going off every so often with some other excruciatingly happy text from her father.

Trip swings by a little after school ends, slurpees in hand. "Happy coming out," he grins, face falling when Skye doesn't smile back. "What went wrong?"

"Nothing with that," Skye sighs, reaching for her slurpee. "Jemma and I almost kissed."

Trip sips his slurpee thoughtfully. "That why you came out?"

"Kind of."

Skye slurps her drink, the only sound as Trip thinks, tapping his straw against his chin. "Do you think you'll try to kiss her again?"

"I mean—."

Trip widens his eyes then and shakes his head ever so slightly, staring just past Skye's shoulder. "Wha—?"

 _Oh_.

She's behind her. Jemma is definitely behind her.

"I'll talk to you tonight," Trip promises, tapping his cup on the desk and scampering out. There really isn't a better word to describe his exit, honestly. The boy scampered. He tips his head as he passes Jemma, who waves and offers a hasty smile.

"Hello Skye," she says brightly, carrying on as if they hadn't nearly kissed.

"I—uh."

"I've got a couple of texts I need for my classes. Would you mind helping me find them, by any chance?"

That's sort of the opposite of what Skye thought she would say. Her mind was going along the lines of  _so that was weird, right?_ and  _I lowkey love you let's make out_. This splits the difference?

"Um—what—?" Skye stops, takes a shallow breath, and keeps her eyes trained just above Jemma's eyes. "What books do you need?"

 

**...**

 

Skye's not entirely sure how Jemma helping find books turned into making out in the agriculture section, but there is no way in hell she's going to question it. Jemma kisses like a pro, parting Skye's lips and slipping her tongue in, hands in her hair, and Skye's pretty sure that she's going to die? Definitely going to die. She's known this girl for a few weeks? Holy shit.

Skye's heart is pounding hard and she'd be embarrassed if she couldn't feel Jemma's own hammering pulse when she sucks at her neck, biting gently and drawing a wrecked moan from Jemma's lips, head thrown back to give Skye better access.

Skye's literally going to explode.

There's something really  _hot_ about how the only sounds in the library are them, gasping and moaning and rustling as Jemma's hands slip up Skye's shirt, cool on her hot skin. Jemma swallows Skye's gasp before she drags her kisses to her jaw, down the column of her neck, breath hot on her collarbone before she starts to work her way back up.

And then her phone rings again.

_Of fucking course._

"Oh," Jemma breathes against Skye's neck. "Oh damn." She leans back, settles with her thighs bracketing Skye's. Her lip gloss is smeared and Skye feels a rush of pride at the thought that she is the reason for that. She is. Wow. "I didn't mean to do that," Jemma sighs, tugging a hand through her tangled hair. "I mean—."

Skye's lips feel swollen. She probably looks like a wreck. But a wreck that very recently had a very pretty British girl curled over her, ripping moans from her throat like it was her job. "I'm cool with it."

"You are?" Jemma sounds happy, hopeful. Skye nods. She's  _very_ cool with it. After a beat of happy quiet, Jemma surges forward to press a chaste kiss to Skye's cheek.

The doors slide open then. "Skye? I thought I'd come make sure you haven't died of your crush yet." Bobbi sounds amused—grossly amused, and Skye might have to maybe fight her?—but far away, closer to the front of the library.

"Crush?" Jemma whispers, grinning as she straightens her blouse, tucks it back into her jeans carefully.

"We just made out," Skye shoots back. "Do not make that a thing."

"You have a crush on me," Jemma sings quietly, standing and shaking out her hair. Skye doesn't make a move from the floor, a tiny bit afraid that if she stands, her legs will prove that they're Jell-O and she'll hit the ground and make an even bigger mess of this.

"Skye, I can hear you." Bobbi's voice sounds closer.

"Uh—," Skye hums, "just a sec?" Her shirt's mostly straight, yeah?

"Oh!" Jemma squeaks quietly as Skye stands, starting for the main aisle. "You've got some—ah—?" She reaches over hesitantly, waiting a beat before she uses her thumb to wipe away the transferred lip gloss from her cheek.

"Good?" Skye gestures to her face. Jemma nods, smiling.

Pointing down the back aisle, Skye whispers, "Wait a few?" Jemma answers with a kiss, warm lips easing over Skye's quickly before she turns and hurries to an aisle a little further away. "I was—uh—I was just organizing some books," Skye calls, stepping out into the main area of the library.

Bobbi turns to face her, breaking into a smile that fades as soon as she notices what must be a very rumpled appearance. "Did the books fight you?"

"Ah—yeah. Agriculture can be a bitch."

"Skye?" Jemma says calmly, coming out of an aisle two rows down, a few books stacked in her arms. "I was wondering if I could check these out quickly?"

"Oh, uh—," Skye whips around. "Yeah." Jemma looks remarkably put together, which Skye's kind of grateful for but also kind of irritated by, but, you know, priorities and whatever. "I can do that for you."

Jemma smiles, walks towards the front. When Skye turns back, Bobbi's staring at her with wide eyes, a smirk inching its way onto her face. "What?" she asks, raising her brows. "This is literally part of my job."

Bobbi, for her part, holds her snickers in until Skye is halfway back to the front. "You're  _such_  a dork," Bobbi whispers, coming up beside Skye. She tries to come up with a witty retort, but then Jemma's smiling at her, back to Bobbi, brushing Skye's fingers with her own as she passes over her books, and yeah, okay, maybe it's an accurate assessment of Skye's character currently.

It's cool.

 

 

 

 **.** **.** **.**

 

 

 

"So, what you're saying is we can never go into the Agro section again," Kara deadpans, rolling her eyes at Skye and Jemma's linked hands.

It's been weeks since that  _incident_ , but it's the first time they've all hung out and it's the first time that Skye's had enough to drink to not be completely embarrassed by just how nerdy their getting together was. Like—making out in the  _library_? Honestly. Just fuck it all.

"I mean—," Skye starts, cutting herself off with a well-timed sip of beer.

"It's not that bad," Jemma covers.

"Mild kissing," Skye adds. "A little groping."

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jemma go red, covering her face and giggling as the rest of the group groans. Grant mimes vomiting. "Y'all are gross," Trip grimaces, his tone light. "Sleep on opposite sides of the room tonight."

Laughing, Jemma snags Skye's beer away from her, leaning up to kiss her while everyone else turns their attention to Bobbi and Lance's latest argument. Pulling back, Jemma settles against Skye, leaning her head on the taller girl's shoulder. They sit in silence; after some time, Skye realizes that Jemma's fallen asleep.

At first, she's about to wake her up and mock her, until she realizes it is actually nearly two am. Trip glances over as Skye's maneuvering the dead weight that is her slumbering girlfriend onto the ground and under a blanket. At his smile, which is veering into proud mom territory, Skye sticks out her tongue with only a little vehemence.

So she's kind of a sap.

Whatever.

 

 

 


End file.
